


What Maketh the Man

by valderys



Category: Cotillion - Georgette Heyer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-23
Updated: 2008-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1633625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soon after their engagement, Freddy takes Kitty shopping to finally buy her the rubies he's wanted so long to bestow on her.  The commonplace becomes a little more than that, when they run into Jack Westruther patronising the same shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Maketh the Man

**Author's Note:**

> A pinch hit, I'm afraid, so written rather speedily, but oh. Trying to get their voices right! So much fun! I hope I succeeded :)
> 
> Written for meretricula

 

 

There are many things that Maketh the Man, Lord Legerwood observed, as he sat with his particular cronies in White's, a haven where a taste for fine port and even finer snuff could be indulged, and where a comfortably stuffed sofa could always be found. A refuge, in point of fact, that Lord Legerwood had been known to cling to, and for which he thanked some benevolent deity, if not every day, then at least often enough that he could be considered a regular worshipper.

His cronies could also be considered to be kindred spirits, in that most of them also had offspring, of one sort or another, and the occasional voiced complaint about any such, was taken in the spirit it was given - not to leave the beautifully red-flocked walls of the morning room.

The thing is, Lord Legerwood was heard to observe, the thing of it is, that what Maketh the Man is so very vexing, so confusing, in these modern times. Almost, one could say, unbelievable. For example, take my son Freddy, who no-one could say has been blessed in the brains department, and yet allow me tell you all about...

***

Miss Kitty Charing, thought Mr Freddy Standen, the chit of a girl whom he loved with a passion, dash it all - hook line and sinker, in fact - nevertheless took the Devil's own time getting ready. He thought this in the most equitable of fashions, however, for Freddy, of all men, knew the value of an incomparable toilette. In fact, to such an end, he had made sure that he'd had a case of the finest madeira sent as a present for his sister Meg's cellar - such as it was. He made sure to order a glass too, and being the amiable fellow that he was, he chose to overlook the twitch of the lips in the benighted footman that was the recipient of his polite request. Dash it, no reason to suffer, if there was no need.

And yet, as always, his Kitty did not let him down. She enjoyed such an eye for colour, that it almost brought a tear to the old ocular, a mistiness to the vision, a... Goodness, she was wearing the pearls again.

"No, no," said Freddy, the Pinkest of Pinks, shaking his head at his lady as she tripped down the stairs, "Not pearls. Not with cherry sarsenet, that will never do."

His bride-to-be, far from taking such strictures in bad part, instead looked imploringly up at him, and said practically, "Well, yes, but what was I to do? My turquoise set would be even worse."

Freddy nodded grimly at these wise words, and said, although not without a reproof in his voice, "Got to do something about that. This very day, in fact. You don't really want to be perambulating about with a lot of jealous cats, anyway, do you?"

His intended, who had, in fact, been looking forward to such a stroll, with her hand in its grey kid glove, prominent on the handle of her swansdown trimmed parasol, all the while sporting the rather gratifyingly large ruby ring that Freddy had seen fit to bestow upon her, was torn. On the one hand, the 'jealous cats' would be there tomorrow, on the other hand shopping was something she thought she would never tire of, having been deprived of it for most of her life.

She resolved the issue by tucking the self-same hand into the corner of her beau's elbow, and uttering the mantra she had been chanting whenever it seemed that there was a dilemma that was not at once easily solved, "Whatever you think best, Freddy, dear."

So it was a couple in complete harmony who entered the premises of Gater and Harm, jewellers to the discerning, some time later. It was Mr Gater himself who served them, for, as he remarked later to Mr Harm, when a young couple as well-heeled as those pair had the good fortune to cross his shop doorway, it stood to reason a large amount of blunt would be sported. And Mr Gater was, indeed, not incorrect in his assumption.

"Rubies," said Mr Standen, abruptly, but not without benevolence, "And after that, emeralds, but only of the first water, mind. None of your trumpery stuff."

So rubies, and then emeralds, were duly presented. Kitty proved to be in seventh heaven, surrounded at last by the jewels to do her justice. Her eyes sparkled with no little lustre of their own, and Freddy owned he had seen no prettier pair, only to realise she had, in fact, been talking about a set of ruby cluster ear-drops. It may be that a blush could then be seen to match his buttonhole, and Kitty was prompted into laughing her tinkling laugh.

So it was into this cosily domestic scene, if such it could be considered, given there were enough gemstones lying about to suit any nabob, that Jack appeared. Cousin Jack, in all his slightly careless, polished glory. His pantaloons were _almost_ as fine as Freddy's, and his calves moulded to them in a finer fit, there was no denying it. His shoulders were broader too, given he was a Blood, a Corinthian with no peer. None of these attributes, while being silently acknowledged by the pair observing him, were enough to move even the tender female heart that beat inside our heroine's breast. For after all, they both knew Jack of old.

But he was still Cousin Jack, when all else was said and done, and Kitty hailed him, cheerfully enough. Jack was not known to be the grudge-bearing sort, and he'd be at their wedding, after all, once the banns were finished being called, and the measles well and truly over.

"And how do you do?" said Kitty, "It seems like an age since you last dropped into Berkeley Square. I remember when you were forever haunting Meg - she'll begin to think you're not her favourite cousin any more, my dear Jack, if don't pay her a visit soon."

Jack favoured them both with one of his smiles, that could be sweet enough when he chose, before his brows once more closed over his more usually stormy countenance.

"You know how it is, coz, when life has been as full of incident as mine has lately," his eyes slid across to Freddy, and there may have been sly laughter in them, "It pays to find other... pursuits. Other pretty amusements."

Freddy cleared his throat. He'd never been in the petticoat line, but his judgement of the niceties of ton, of what was suitable for female chatter, certainly did not include the implication that Jack had found another light-skirt to chase. However, his niceties also meant that he had no idea how to point out Jack's impropriety without explaining to Kitty precisely what it was she shouldn't understand. The contradiction left him feeling rather like a stuffed shirt, puffed up, but with no way of releasing what was obviously tormenting him.

It seemed however, that his niceties didn't need to be indulged at all, for Kitty merely said, as she admired the latest tray of bracelets, "And what, pray, is her name? For this time, I feel we should meet before a chance encounter in the Pantheon Bazaar, or some such, makes of us bosom friends. It makes it that much easier, do you not think?"

"In this instance," said Jack, sweeping a bow, and kissing her fingers, very gentlemanly, "I do not believe that it will be necessary. I did not think it was so last time, either, as I recall."

"And yet," said Kitty, laughing, carelessly, "We do not always get what we want."

"No," Jack agreed, a moment of sudden flaring anger darkening his eyes to embers.

Perhaps it was fortunate then that Mr Harm, who had drawn the unlucky straw earlier in the day, interrupted the polite conversation before it erupted into something more violent. Freddy could not have been happier with a tradesman, even one who had decided, in a fit of generosity, to halve all his sister's mantua bills.

"I'm sorry, Mr Westruther, but am I to understand that you are here to collect the diamond bracelet that sir ordered?" asked the hapless Mr Harm.

Jack inclined his head, in icy acquiescence.

Mr Harm mopped his neck with a convenient handkerchief. "I regret to inform you, sir, that the bracelet will not be available for some time. A problem with the... clasp, I believe it was. Of course, if you'd care to settle up any of your other outstanding purchases then it may be that work on the... clasp could be expedited, sir. You know how it is."

Freddy might have found the look of discomfiture on Jack's face in that moment to be amusing, if he were a more mean-spirited kind of a man. As it was, he suddenly discovered a small speck of fluff that had adhered to the sleeve of his coat, and became most engaged in removing it.

"D__n you," said Jack, and turned a look, it has to be said, of extreme violence upon the wretched shopkeeper, "I suppose you have found that my expectations have all been overturned, that I have been cut out of my inheritance by..."

It was chilly today, despite the early April weather, Freddy thought. Nothing else to be done. He coughed, lightly.

Of course, his blood was rather boiling, at the insult, at the implications, and in front of Kitty... Well! But no dust-up could be had here, in the common way of things, even if Freddy wished to even try his luck against such an out-and-outer once more. Not in front of a couple of Cits. Really, Jack's temper would be the end of him one day.

Kitty, meanwhile, was about to leap to Jack's defence, her warm heart not even registering the insult, and her town-bronze not nearly enough yet to allow her to realise that responding in kind would be the worst sort of thing a person might do. With great presence of mind, Freddy attached himself, limpet-like, to her arm, and nipped hurriedly at her fingers. She subsided, but threw up at him such a speaking look of smouldering anguish, and yet so completely filled with her utter faith in him, that Freddy felt as though he had received a tonic, or rather another glass of that damned rum punch that had set them both down this long, tortuous, and yet so very welcome course.

The sensation was enough, indeed, that, thinking more speedily than he had ever in his life, caused him to say, loftily, "Oh, was that the bracelet that m'mother sent you to pick up, Jack. I must say that was awfully good of you. I thought to mention it myself today, but you know how it is. Got distracted. Can't help myself, but there it is."

Mr Harm, meanwhile, was looking between all three of them, these most interesting of customers, with narrowed eyes. He'd already run a great risk, he knew that, for Jack's reputation preceded him; indeed, was occasionally the subject of harrowed talk in the darkest of city coffee houses, but now - things had changed. If the Honourable Freddy Standen, despite the gossip that was making the rounds, was willing to stand buff for his cousin. Well, that put a different complexion on things.

"Oh well, naturally, sir," said Mr Harm, immediately, "I don't know how such a misunderstanding could have arisen. I'll get the bracelet made up at once, sir."

It left the three of them staring at one another, glaring daggers in the case of Jack, gazing soulfully up at her hero in the case of Kitty, and feeling suddenly uncomfortably like a ready-plucked goose, if you were Freddy Standen himself.

None of them felt up to more than the merest commonplaces, even if they could have risked anything else with shop-loiterers and apprentices about. So it wasn't until they were safely deposited out onto the street again, a small package or two in Kitty's reticule, and assurances ringing in their ears that the others would be made up and sent on as quick as a flash, that anything more was said.

"Here," said Freddy, gruffly, and thrust one small significant package at Jack.

"Oh no," said Jack, with a certain ugly twist to his lips, "I couldn't _possibly_ take a bracelet designed for the wrist of Aunt Emma."

"Oh piffle, Jack," said Kitty, as impulsive as ever, "Freddy saved your bacon in there, you could at least be a little grateful!"

For the second time in an hour, Freddy had to snatch at his lady's small gloved hand, and hang on tight. "No, no," he said desperately, "No obligation, happy to help, no trouble at all."

Freddy and Jack exchanged glances once again. "You see how it is," said Freddy, unwillingly, "Couldn't have you on Queer Street, now could I? Bad for the family if you're rolled up."

Jack raised a sardonic eyebrow.

"And m'mother would only wonder what was wrong if I gave her a gift, and then start bleating about it being end of the world. Measles does that to her, you know. Besides diamonds don't suit Kitty here, even you have got to see that!"

He blinked at Jack, rather wondering at his own eloquence.

"Stop, Freddy!" said Jack, at last, his sense of the ridiculous, always close to the surface, coming to the fore. He held his hands up, laughing. "I see you feel it strongly. How could I refuse such an elegant request?"

"I've a notion that you'll do what suits you," said Freddy, calm and certain at the last, "But I wish you wouldn't."

"Well, I hope she's pretty, at the very least, after all this fuss," observed Kitty in the suddenly eased tension, and then enjoyed with some relish, the sight of her intended and his cousin laughing together in the street, hands on each other's shoulders, almost, it has to be said, in some danger of wrinkling the superfine cloth of their coats. She wasn't, to be fair, entirely sure of all the ramifications of their exchange, but no doubt it was the result of some peculiar start that only men could hope to understand.

Kitty was a fair-minded soul. If women had their little mysteries, than it seemed only fair to her that men should be allowed them too.

***

So there you are, said Lord Legerwood, finally, as he looked around. That's Freddy for you. There were various stares, ones of amusement being easily the most prominent. He nodded in acknowledgment. It was perhaps a comfortable thing to be surprised by one's own offspring. And Lord Legerwood sat back in his chair and prepared to be regaled by another of his cronies, whose tale promised to be at least as entertaining as his own. He was sure that finding such humour in one's own children might be reprehensible in some less refined setting, but as it was...

Lord Legerwood sat back in his chair, and indulged himself with the thought that if, by some happenstance, his eldest scion ever settled down as sensibly as he bid very fair to do, well, then, he had five other children besides. Somehow he darkly suspected that young Edmund's affairs, once he was out of leading strings and his mother's care, might begin to tax even _his_ powers of description. The future, in fact, promised to be full of incident.

Lord Legerwood began to smile. 

 


End file.
